


So We'd Both Be Free

by noelre



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreak, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelre/pseuds/noelre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Are you, are you coming to the tree where I told you to run, so we’d both be free?”</em> Married and miserable, Iwaizumi Hajime only gets to spend one night a year with his secret love, Oikawa Tooru, from mutual agreement. Only in those nights are they both freed from their burdens. Partially, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So We'd Both Be Free

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my files for solid three months now. I've been hesitating, but decided to give it a go, anyway. Whenever I write something for a new otp, it's always either smut or angst. Guess which happened.

Under a tree sat a man, on a mahogany bench that Iwaizumi remembered to be a little coarse, a little worn out, squeaking a bit, but still holding up. The tree was up the hill, and it was that very same hill that he remembered from his childhood. They’d run up and down, roll around, Oikawa would fly around his little toys of aliens with big eyes, and he would laugh like any little boy would do. Now, there were no children running, no Sun hanging up on the sky, just the tree with no leaves. Frost had kidnapped the ground, it made the grass stiff underneath his shoes, and it had hijacked the air, too; every time he took a breath, he saw it in front of his face. Through the veil of white breath he looked at the tree. He had heard rumors that it would be cut down next spring, and as much as he had been devastated upon hearing the news, he had not worn the sorrow on his face.

 

The closer he got the more his chest stung. It had only been a year, but already from behind he could hardly recognize Oikawa. New haircut, cleaner, neater. The sight made Iwaizumi let out a shaky breath. He knew he was few minutes early, but so was Oikawa, and the thought of that made his knees buckle. How long had the idiot waited here this time, an hour or two, maybe three? He realized he was nervous, oh, so very nervous, but three hundred and sixty-five days had passed, so he supposed it was more than allowed. One year, they would no longer meet under the tree, and when he made the mistake of thinking about it, his slow, collected steps turned into hasty, running ones. He ran forward, tried to reach for what he had once lost and now regained again once a year.

 

He stopped, right behind Oikawa. Maybe Oikawa didn’t see him, maybe he was lost in thoughts like he had been so many times before, but Iwaizumi didn’t make a big deal of his own presence. He merely sat down beside the other, did not say _good to see you_ or _I missed you_ or _the new haircut suits you_. Instead, he moved his arm around Oikawa’s shoulder, let his fingertips nestle to the fluffy hair and pulled the man’s head against his shoulder. Oikawa said nothing, either, did not do anything to let him know that his presence had been heard and seen. He merely rested his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and closed his eyes, let out a shivery breath. In thought Iwaizumi stroked Oikawa’s hair, felt his heart take loops of never-ending hope and then turn into mourning. So very gently he rubbed the side of the man’s head and rested his eyes, was in no hurry to move. The frame beside him trembled, he could tell from the redness of the cheeks that _again_ Oikawa had waited longer than necessary, although they had made precise plans like always.

 

But plans… They never worked. Had they worked, they wouldn’t sit here in secret. They would sit proudly together.

 

Shaking fingers moved over his knuckles, and Iwaizumi knew what they were searching for. Like always, Oikawa toyed with the ring on his finger, swirled it around, pulled it a little up and then back to its place. The gold shining mocked him at the moment, mocked both of them, and Iwaizumi had to turn his gaze away, but the fingers remained like always. Although Oikawa was cold, shivering, frozen, he gave him warmth no one else could. Their breaths mingled together, became one unit, floated to the sky with no rush in the entire world. The soft fingertips ran over the hard bumps of his knuckles and joints, one by one, examined the skin that had gotten a little dry. Iwaizumi hoped for Oikawa to tangle, to entwine their fingers and not let go anymore, but it was a fool’s hope. He tried to reach for his fingers himself but couldn’t, as Oikawa already pulled his hand to himself before that was possible. Again, rejected out of good will. It seemed that Oikawa had grown to be the most responsible of them.

 

Not a word was exchanged when Iwaizumi got up and Oikawa followed. No longer was he able to pretend, and forcibly he grabbed Oikawa’s hand to his own, dragged him away from the tree, down the hill, in front of people. He didn’t care who would catch them, he did not care if his face would decorate the front page of the newspaper tomorrow, he wasn’t pretending anymore. He couldn’t pretend like he had done for years, his whole life, not when Oikawa looked like that, his brows drawn to a forever frown, lips in a disappointed pucker, his gaze glazed. Not a single part of Iwaizumi wanted this anymore. He forced his way through the crowd that was Christmas shopping, pulled Oikawa along.

 

_Hey, Iwa-chan—_

 

He gritted his teeth and yanked Oikawa closer, didn’t want him to get lost.

 

_—let’s meet once a year, okay? You and me, under that tree._

It had been years since he had last seen Oikawa smile. The back of Iwaizumi’s eyes itched. Wasn’t it his fault? Tonight, he’d open the window, throw the ring into the night and stop pretending. He would follow Oikawa anywhere, everywhere.

 

_Don’t tell your wife, okay? …Don’t look at me like that, Iwa-chan, you know I’m so into you!_

 

Iwaizumi didn’t let go of Oikawa’s hand, not even when he was fishing for his keys from his pocket. The house was dark, abandoned, just like it had always been. Not one more second did he wait when the front door closed behind their backs. He pushed Oikawa against the wall, pinned him there, peeled the jacket off and pressed his lips hard against the mouth he had watched running all his life. A string of moans escaped Oikawa, but Iwaizumi didn’t let go, just kissed him deeper, tilted his head and trailed his tongue inside the hot mouth. Desperation bubbled inside him, made him nauseous, made him move hastily. Everything unnecessary he pulled off, found his naked body against Oikawa’s. They tangled together, and for a second he was sure he saw tears in Oikawa’s eyes. But when he pulled back, when he took a proper look of him, he knew he had only imagined it.

 

Nothing and everything went through his mind. He pulled Oikawa up in his arms, found legs around his waist and his mouth so very busy with the other’s. Iwaizumi took a step, then another, both shaky but somehow he managed; and like always, his feet brought him to the bedroom. He fell over Oikawa on the softness of the mattress, and he pushed his body closer, wanted even closer, wanted his skin melt to his, because he wouldn’t have another chance to do this, not in so many days. He hurried, became clumsy, and it was Oikawa’s hands suddenly cupping his face that made him startle. Slowly, so hesitantly Iwaizumi pulled back and glanced down, rested the weight of his upper body on his arms, looked down at the beauty that was called Oikawa Tooru and who could never be his. He wasn’t sure if he still had a heart in his chest.

 

This time, he leaned down in a slow motion and kissed the cold lips that gently responded. He got dizzy, and only after a moment did he realize that Oikawa had started to toy with his wedding ring again. Not an ounce of hesitation was in his bones as he lifted his hand, let the love of his life remove the ring and throw it in the darkness; like always, in the morning he’d be desperately searching it from the crooks of the room. Un-ringed, unattached, it was easy to forget the woman he had married, because hadn’t it always been Oikawa in his mind, hadn’t it always been a future with the two of them that he had imagined? Hadn’t he already pretended all his teenage years, why did he still had to?

 

He took Oikawa in his embrace and did not let go anymore.

 

After warm, sweaty minutes, Iwaizumi breathed hard and felt the hair on his arms twitch a little from coldness. Oikawa fixed the problem for him by pressing his back against his chest, pulled his arm over his waist, and Iwaizumi didn’t mind. He buried his face to the soft nape of the other man and forced him a little closer. The sheets felt sticky, as did his skin all over, really. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the skin that smelled faintly of cologne, but as much as he wanted to purse his lips to a small peck, he didn’t. He never did. The ends of Oikawa’s hair tickled his nose and made him want to scratch his skin, but he felt too good to move a single bone.

 

“I saw your match.” His voice was croaky, strained. But he tried nonetheless. Oikawa settled better in his embrace; his skin was burning. “It was… a close call.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“You’re straining your knee again, aren’t you?”

 

Oikawa huffed. “Am not!”

 

Iwaizumi knew it was a blatant lie. He had seen it, how Oikawa’s brows had created a wrinkle deeper than usually between his eyes, how his concentrated expression had cringed for a fleeting second as he had served – in pain. It was obvious. He wasn’t in the mood of lecturing, of ruining the moment, so for once he let Oikawa have his way. He wrapped his arm tighter around the toned body against his, felt the hipbones with his fingertips and rubbed them a bit, made the man squirm. A smile wanted to twitch on his lips, but he didn’t give permission for it, not when Oikawa wasn’t smiling, either.

 

Just like this, he wanted to fall asleep and escape reality. Outside this apartment he didn’t want to exist.

 

“How is she?” Oikawa sounded light, curious, _genuine_. What a lie.

 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to put in words all the visits in hospital, all the times she had held her stomach in front of a mirror and looked so happy. Also, it was hard to vocalize the burden that weighed his heart down to his knees, the way he always put up a brave smile in front of her, but secretly spent nights and nights watching volleyball matches although he had promised not to do it. He couldn’t even begin to explain how glued his nose was on the screen, how intently he kept staring at Oikawa and his tiny figure from the television, how he wished he would be there, how he wanted to feel the surface of the volleyball against his palms and fingertips again. How to explain that tomorrow morning he didn’t want to get up in the search of the ring but he hoped the floor would swallow the gold?

 

“Pregnant,” he finally said.

 

Unbearable silence. Suddenly, Oikawa sat up without a word.

 

“Where are you going?” Iwaizumi sighed. He should have known better.

 

Oikawa looked at him over his shoulder, a smile plastered on his lips. It was the same smile as in magazine covers, in interviews, and it didn’t belong to the small boy who had been so keen on rolling down the hill and throwing alien toys down and at him. It was the smile of a golden boy, someone Iwaizumi didn’t know anymore.

 

“I can’t stay, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s lips twitched. _Lies_. “I have to… I have this… thing…”

 

He couldn’t even come up with a proper excuse, and he realized it soon himself as he averted his gaze, let the carefully selected shield drop. Again Iwaizumi sighed, and this time pushed himself to sit up, too, wrapped his arms around Oikawa. He rested his chin on his shoulder and closed his eyes, was too tired to handle all of this. “Just stay,” he croaked.

 

“But Iwa-chan—“

 

“Stay.”

 

For a quick moment, Oikawa glanced at him. The smile didn’t return. Under his breath he murmured, “Boy or girl?”

 

“Doesn’t matter.”

 

Before Oikawa managed to scold him, Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around his shoulder and tilted his chin with his fingers, kissed him, shut him up. He didn’t want to talk about this, he didn’t want to think about this, he didn’t want to live this; he rather lulled in the fantasy of one night that was so graciously given to him. If he only closed his eyes and listened, he could hear Oikawa’s breath, his heartbeat. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed in his life. In these nights, it was he and Oikawa, and he wanted nothing to ruin that. He deepened the kiss and then pulled Oikawa back to lie down on the bed under the rumpled sheets to declare his secret love once more.

 

A year later, he met Oikawa under the tree again. This time his Oikawa Tooru wore a necklace of rope.


End file.
